


Rogue Wave

by telanaris



Series: Arcana One-Shots [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, NSFW, No Plot, just back alley shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telanaris/pseuds/telanaris
Summary: She's… not really sure how they got here, if she's being honest. She's never been an exhibitionist, as far as she knows, though with the way it's making her feel—all electric and coiled and strung, Julian kneeling between her legs in the back alley behind the Rowdy Raven—she would not be surprised to find out that, maybe, in the part of her life she can't remember, she had been.





	Rogue Wave

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW

“Ahh-h! Oooh, oh, _fuck,_ Julian—”

His words were mumbled so close to the skin of her thigh that in her private cloud of heady pleasure she could barely make out their meaning:

“You taste… _exquisite_.”

“Mmm, oh—what was that?”

He ducks his head out from under her skirts, and even in the dim light of the alley, she can make out the shape of the cheeky grin he flashes her. 

“Better than anything Bartholomew is pouring.” 

She croaks a laugh, a weak sound, soon lost to the throaty moan that rides on its heels, long and low, when he buries his head beneath her skirts and returns to his teasing. 

She's… not really sure how they got here, if she's being honest. She's never been an exhibitionist, as far as she knows, though with the way it's making her feel—all electric and coiled and _strung_ , Julian kneeling between her legs in the back alley behind the Rowdy Raven—she would not be surprised to find out that, maybe, in the part of her life she can't remember, she had been. 

It helped that she was a little drunk. That's how it had started: drinks in the tavern. And then—what? Julian had leaned across the table towards her, whispered something in that rolling timber he used when he was being flirtatious. And by now she'd known him long enough, well enough, that when she saw the telltale arc of his eyebrow that signaled more clearly than anything a turn towards the suggestive, she'd played along. 

Too well. 

Or, just well enough—perfectly, even, depending on your perspective.

Gods, he was talkative, suave; but she hasn't guessed how talented he’d be when he put that tongue to other, more _indecent_ uses.

Another swipe of it along her lips and she felt her legs quiver; she feared they'd go out beneath her and she'd collapse, right into the same shallow puddle Julian was currently kneeling in, murky back-alley water pooling around his knees. 

( _Bless those tall, water-proof boots—_ )

His hands ran along her legs, clutched the clenching muscles of her calves, hummed in satisfaction against her. So plainly proud of himself, for reducing her to a trembling mess, pulse thundering, so hard and so loud in her chest she could swear Julian heard it ,too.

But then he pulled away, excavated himself once more from the heap of her skirts. When her eyes found him his hair was comically mussed, but it took nothing away from the devilish grin he favored her with, lips glistening with the evidence of his work.

“Wish I could keep you like this, ‘Red. So coiled and close to undone…delicious.” 

Slowly he trailed his hands from her calves to the height of her thighs, squeezing them for emphasis. “Working just enough to keep you on edge, but never over it—right on the brink until you’re so mad for it you can hardly _beg—_ ”

She let out a breathy whine. Gods, she wanted that too, wanted him to wreck her, ravish her like he'd promised back in the library, keep her on edge until dawn blushed the sky rosy…

But here, in this alley, in full view for anyone who might pass by, was neither the time nor the place.

“ _Please_ ,” she rasped, lowering her hands to tangle in his hair, pull at it, needy and eager.

Julian _laughed_. 

“Ahh, but how could I be so cruel? How could I possibly refuse so polite a request from such an enchanting woman?” He leaned close to her, and she could feel the tip of his nose burying into the curl of hair between her legs as he pressed his lips to her clit in a kiss that was absurdly, maddeningly chaste.

“Next time, then.”

She gasped; Julian hummed. 

“Come here,” he said, hands kneading the tight muscles of her thighs and drawing her closer, further from the brick wall she was propped against. _Too_ close, ’til he threatened her balance, perched as she was on the balls of her feet. 

“Oh, Julian, what—”

“Lift,” he answered, long fingers sliding behind her knee and raising it off the ground. “Over my shoulders. Don't worry, dear Aredhel, I won’t drop you.”

Did he—did he want her to _sit_ on him?

If she hadn’t been so _tight_ —breath shallow, breasts straining against her shirt with every desperate inhale, every atom of her being positively _fluttering_ with the need he’d planted in her—she might have protested. But she wanted him—wanted him too much to argue.

She let him guide her.

“Good, just like that,” he murmured against her legs, guiding her until she was hovering above him. Legs cast over his deliciously broad shoulders, skirts pooling around her waist, her hands scrabbled on the brick wall behind her for purchase, some way to keep her aloft….

But Julian’s hold was firm and steady, and he hardly gave her a moment to settle in this precarious new position before bowing his head once more.

His tongue—warm, wet and ravenous—passed his lips to greet her.

And oh, how powerless she is in the face of this fresh onslaught of pleasure! His elegant tongue fixing to undo her with each splendid swipe. A weak ‘ _fuck_ ’ passes her lips as she buries her fingers in his hair, grip tightening in his auburn curls.

Julian—Julian _hums,_ mouth vibrating against her. Can’t speak like this, can’t talk himself into a tizzy when he’s stroke-sweep- _sucking_ her sex, making the most vulgar noises. But he has other ways of expressing his enthusiasm, his encouragement. His _approval_. And each tug of her hand in his hair has his tongue curling around her, purring with satisfaction.

And she's shameless, _should_ feel shame, or at least the tiniest bit of embarrassment to be rutting into his face in this filthy alley. But every time she tries to get ahold of her surroundings—hands scrambling over brick, cool night air on her flushed cheeks—the only sounds she can hear is the puddle lapping at Julian's knees, her own breathy sounds of pleasure, and the wet, lascivious sounds of Julian's mouth as he devours her. 

And then—hearing no footsteps behind the tavern door, or passersby approaching on the street—she surrenders, back into oblivion, back into the heady delirium that Julian keeps dragging her deeper into its thickness with every caress and nimble slide, tongue sliding greedily about her clit, drawing plaintive sighs and sobs out of her that she tries to muffle against the back of her hand. And as his jaw move she can feel the faint scratch of stubble against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, the tickle of his sideburns. 

Julian raised his hands to grope her ass, digging his thumbs into the cradle of her hips, _pressing—_ spreading them wider. Nudging her apart, delving deeper…

And who is she to discourage him?

So she locked her ankles between his shoulder blades, heels pressed against the curve of his spine as she widened her hips to grant him easier access. And Julian—Julian _moans_ against her, mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “that’s the good stuff,” so ridiculous and cheesy that she’d tease him for it if she still had the capacity to string words together. But then his nimble tongue circles her sex and his lips pucker around her and suck….

And ohh, her legs, they're aching, clenched tight _tight_ and muscles trembling, every part of her delightfully taught. But every time she thinks she's close—nearly over the edge, so close to tumbling into that impending, white-hot bliss—Julian draws her deeper. 

The desperate need to come was swiftly overtaking her: every deft swipe and lick of his supple tongue had her heart pounding madly in her chest like it would burst free. Her whole body felt like it was throbbing-sobbing-singing—glorious, _gorgeous_. Quivering like violin strings under a bow—close, legs humming, Julian’s hands still kneading her ass and his tongue, merciless, _relentless_ —

…until it _breaks…_

…crashing over her like a rogue wave, rare and tremendous, swallowing ships and her sense until (alley or not) she is keening, wailing loud enough to be heard on the street, breath elusive, drowning in pleasure, Julian’s mouth still moving against her like the moon pulls the tides.…

When it passes her limbs are as lifeless as a dolls. Pulling away, careful to hold her steady, Julian swings her legs free of his broad shoulders, guides her waist—gently, gently—into his lap. And she curls her arms around his chest, and buries her face in the crook of his neck as she chases a steady breath. 

He chuckles above her, hands flexing, gripping at her ass before they come up to her back, rubbing circles over her shirt. 

And even now, still breathless, she cannot resist the urge to tease him:

“‘That’s the good stuff?’ Really?”

He laughs, a low rumbling, then leans forward to press his lips, gently, against hers. “Do you disagree, love? Was it not good for you?”

And he knows the answer, but she can’t give up the chance to praise him, placing her hand on the side of his face and pressing kisses to his jaw:

“No, no, you were _wonderful_. You were perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed my writing, please consider following me on tumblr where I write as 4biddenleeches. :) My prompt box is always open if there is something particular you’d like to see!


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